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III. The First Act in a Timeworn Drama

           Whilehewastyingshecried,“Icannotstopit!”

           Clymrantoherside,andfoundhecouldonlychecktheropebytwistingtheloosepartroundtheuprightpost,whenitstoppedwithajerk.“Hasithurtyou?”

           “Yes,”shereplied.

           “Verymuch?”

           “No;Ithinknot.”Sheopenedherhands.Oneofthemwasbleeding;theropehaddraggedofftheskin.Eustaciawrappeditinherhandkerchief.

           “Youshouldhaveletgo,”saidYeobright.“Whydidn’tyou?”

           “YousaidIwastoholdon....ThisisthesecondtimeIhavebeenwoundedtoday.”

           “Ah,yes;Ihaveheardofit.IblushformynativeEgdon.Wasitaseriousinjuryyoureceivedinchurch,MissVye?”

           TherewassuchanabundanceofsympathyinClym’stonethatEustaciaslowlydrewuphersleeveanddisclosedherroundwhitearm.Abrightredspotappearedonitssmoothsurface,likearubyonParianmarble.

           “Thereitis,”shesaid,puttingherfingeragainstthespot.

           “Itwasdastardlyofthewoman,”saidClym.“WillnotCaptainVyegetherpunished?”

           “Heisgonefromhomeonthatverybusiness.IdidnotknowthatIhadsuchamagicreputation.”

           “Andyoufainted?”saidClym,lookingatthescarletlittlepunctureasifhewouldliketokissitandmakeitwell.

           “Yes,itfrightenedme.Ihadnotbeentochurchforalongtime.AndnowIshallnotgoagainforeversolong—perhapsnever.Icannotfacetheireyesafterthis.Don’tyouthinkitdreadfullyhumiliating?IwishedIwasdeadforhoursafter,butIdon’tmindnow.”

           “Ihavecometocleanawaythesecobwebs,”saidYeobright.

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